


Sweet Deal

by Foxberry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel/Demon Relationship, Flirting, Good Omens AU, Historical References, Ineffable Idiots, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2019, M/M, Mutual Pining, Time Skips, secret meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: Despite their best efforts and opposing sides, Marco and Jean keep meeting across the years. Angels and demons weren't meant to have arrangements and yet theirs remains. A deal that only seems to get sweeter.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2019





	Sweet Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fumi_faust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fumi_faust/gifts).



> Hey Fumi! 
> 
> You asked for some angel Marco and demon Jean with the vibe of Good Omens so naturally as a fan of the show I had to go full AU. I hope you like it!

  
The sunlight couldn’t have fallen more beautifully than today if Marco was to believe, and yet he was perpetually impressed by the majesty of God’s wonder. He created beauty in every breath, from the dew on the grass to the reassuring clack of boots against the cobblestones. Yet despite all that awaited outdoors, nothing had quite prepared him for the development of moving images flickering on a tiny screen.  
  
Marco stood, dressed to the nines and waiting in a crowded pub for the event of the year, the Queen’s coronation. He’d been sure to dress the part with taupe plaid pleated trousers, a brown chevron over the breast of his cream-coloured polo, and the lightest of summer jackets that had just hit the market. His tie was a delicate satin, perfectly appropriate for such an occasion, even if he were in a pub that smelled of spilled beer and sweat.  
  
He settled up the back, smiling to those around him who must be just as pleased as he was to see a new moment of history playing out before their eyes. While others threw their beers back, he sat there nursing his own, watching the grainy black-and-white play in the small box up by the bar.  
  
“You know, they hardly know what they’re in for,” a familiar smoky voice called beside him as an elbow dug into his side.  
  
Marco closed his eyes for a brief moment of recognition. “Hello Jean.”  
  
He turned to find the demon slouching beside him, dressed in a black bomber jacket, his hair greased into a quiff, and dark pants that were tighter than a reasonable human would likely wear. So often the outfits that demons wore pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable. It was hardly a surprise, and yet Marco did have to admit that he looked exceptionally good in this one.  
  
“Marco,” Jean called back with his signature smirk. He made the smallest of glances over to Marco, pretending as they always had that they weren’t there in each other’s company. After all, an angel and a demon weren’t meant to converse.  
  
Marco side-eyed his serendipitous companion amongst the humans, hardly surprised that he had turned up here of all days. “I think it’s fabulous. All these people gathering together.”  
  
“That’s how riots start, you know.” Jean raised his eyebrows, his horn-rimmed sunglasses shielding his molten gold eyes like always.  
  
Marco looked away before he caught himself staring for too long. “Only when your lot get their… hands on it.” He took a sip of his beer, making a pointed pout of his lips. The other side had a habit of, well, interfering with the good things. A gathering like this of people had to be god’s work. It was the coronation of the new Queen after all.  
  
“Not that you would know, _angel_ .” Jean tilted his head this time, making a show as he lit his cigarette and waited for Marco to bite. He always knew how to press each one of Marco’s buttons, much to his chagrin.  
  
“I am entirely sure that I can spot your handiwork from a mile off.” For a moment he tried to attempt the way Jean looked him up and down, sizing him up with that long pointed face and almost permanent scowl, yet he could never manage to do it. He was an angel after all, sunlight and good things and better than the snide ways Jean tried to get under his skin. “How long have we known each other now?”  
  
“Too long,” Jean griped with a sigh. The cigarette in his hand burned, ash falling to the ground. Most of it was for show, as was most of Jean. Though he would never admit it.

The announcer on the television called the beginning of the ceremony. Pub patrons started whispering amongst themselves, their hushed voices mixed with excitement and quiet wonder. Marco had to smile at the sight of it, having a chance to be among them.  
  
“You’ve got to loosen up.” Jean nudged him once more.  
  
Marco rolled his eyes and cast the most judgemental expression he could manage. “As loose as the tie you’re not wearing? I’m hardly going to take after you, am I?”  
  
Jean smiled brighter. With a flourish of his wrist, he lifted up his sunglasses to rest over his overworked quiff. “You could learn a thing or two from me.”  
  
Marco scoffed and laughed harder. “Like what?”  
  
Jean simply nodded to the screen. “Who do you think made the television grainy? That box is going to rot their brains for years. Who do you think thought of that?”  
  
“ _Jean_ ,” Marco huffed. “You can’t rightly believe that this isn’t the start of a new age of wonder?! Imagine what they can _achieve_ with all of this.”  
  
Jean shrugged and shuffled closer, their arms touching. “Imagine all the horrible things they can do with it… It’s entirely a win for us.”  
  
“Since when were you focused on winning for…” Marco peered around, hoping that the other angels weren’t within earshot. He wasn’t meant to be fraternising with the enemy. “Winning for them.”  
  
“Are you saying I can’t have a win, _angel?”_ _  
__  
_Marco huffed. “I’m just saying that you have always been more… _creative._ ”  
  
“And what of you?”  
  
The pointed question made Marco blush. Their arms were touching, the heat between them getting warmer. Anyone looking at them might think something was happening. Yet the humans around them smiled their way, joyous from the event and the alcohol and the gathering of all of them together. No one looked twice at how close an angel and a demon were getting.  
  
Marco gulped and straightened his back. “I’m plenty creative, thank you very much.” His voice sounded so much more vulnerable, affected, than he had intended. He couldn’t let Jean know how he felt, how his teasing and prodding and stupid acts of kindness made his heart flutter.  
  
Jean simply hummed and leaned against him, showing off as all demon’s did. He made his point with smirks and slouching and gestures that somehow made him look both dorky and cool at once. This was just how Jean was, how he always was, probably did it with everyone.  
  
And yet Marco couldn’t help but be flustered by it. 

They stood there, agents of opposing sides, watching the moving images flicker on the television. Marco could scarcely make out the people on the screen, but the Queen looked resplendent. The fineries and the traditions all played out beautifully. It was a wonder that the other side hadn’t curtailed the whole ceremony.  
  
Unless…  
  
“Jean…?” Marco asked suspiciously. “You haven’t… you didn’t…”  
  
“What’s that, angel?” Jean sounded almost groggy, leaning his weight on Marco and slipping his hand onto his shoulder.  
  
Marco huffed as quietly as he could manage. A flustered angel was a compromised angel. “This is all going too well. You know how I feel about these kinds of surprises, Jean. We had an… _arrangement._ ”  
  
Jean snorted, his fingers twitching at Marco’s shoulder, slowly moving up his neck. “An arrangement, hmm?” His voice grew closer as the world grew further and further away. “Is that so?”  
  
Marco threw his head back in frustration. “You tell me what they’re planning and I tell you what… we’re playing. Balance.”  
  
“Oh, you really are _no fun_ ,” he threw back with a groan. His fingers pulled back and left Marco wanting. “You don’t think I’m going to let them get the better of us.”  
  
“ _Us_ ?” Marco turned to face those piercing gold eyes. They sparkled whenever he got too close, whenever Jean got too close, his breath so close and warm. “This is no _us._ We’re… very different people. You and me… we’re…”  
  
Marco couldn’t finish that thought. He couldn’t face the idea of how different they were, despite how often they saw each other, how they always kept finding each other ever since that first day in the Garden of Eden. Enemies didn’t do that… and yet friends… friends always seemed to fall short. He could hardly call someone on the opposing side a _friend._ _  
__  
_Jean shrugged before he pulled back just a little. His eyes never left Marco’s and his smile never left his face. “We’re… our thing, Marco.” There’s a glint in his eyes that Marco can’t place. “I couldn’t spoil this day for you even if I tried.”  
  
With a gasp, Marco felt like the world stopped. The sound of the pub fell away. The images on the television blurred into the crowd. It was only a coronation and certainly not his first.  
  
“There _is_ a soft spot in you somewhere.” Marco gleamed with a sense of triumph. He poked at Jean’s chest and chuckled to himself. “I _knew_ it.”  
  
“That’s…” Jean scoffed and pulled away with a shake of his head. “Now _you’re_ getting carried away.”  
  
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jean swayed back and forth, tapping his boots on the sticky pub floor. “They’ve not even part way into this thing.” He shoved his palm out at the screen, even with it all the way across the room. “Don’t tell me this goes on for _hours_ ?”  
  
Marco shook his head with a soft laugh. Of course a demon couldn’t sit through something so magical and beautiful and elaborate.  
  
But he wasn’t wrong. This was going to go on for hours. Most of Marco’s enthusiasm had faded as the scent of other people’s sweat lingered in the air and people kept talking. He'd even abandoned his drink on the nearest table in reach. There was only so much of human’s wondrous lives he could take when his freshly polished shoes were bumping against someone else’s.  
  
“It _does_ seem rather long...” he finally admitted.  
  
Jean pulled down his sunglasses to cover his eyes once more. With another flourish, he plucked a comb from his jacket pocket and fixed his quiff like a splitting image of James Dean. “Say we get out of here?”  
  
“And go where?!” Marco answered with his mockery of a shocked tone. Angels shouldn’t be disappearing off with demons, especially not when there were big events on tiny screens with lots of people gathering around to squint at moving grainy images. “Not saying that I agree but… if we were… where?”  
  
“It’s a good sunny day outside… I hear sunshine is something that you angels like…” He nodded towards the back door.  
  
Marco felt the grin sneaking into the corner of his lips and quickly stopped himself. “I… could use some fresh air.”  
  
Jean burst into a grin and before Marco could say anymore, his arm was being grabbed and tugged behind an enthusiastic demon sprinting for the nearest door. He supposed there were worse ways to spend a coronation.  
  
After all, Marco knew just the right local cafe that served the finest tippy golden flowery orange pekoe tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly loved writing this and have a few more ideas for other meetings they may have. If you love it, let me know because I'm thinking of adding more to this!


End file.
